


Chains

by Eternallost



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Banter, Beaches, Chains, F/M, Moral Dilemmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallost/pseuds/Eternallost
Summary: Count Olaf trades his cage for some chains





	Chains

“Little orphan, _all_ alone on a deserted beach.”

“I’m not alone,” Violet turns to Olaf in his cage, sea-salt hair whipping her face at his audacity.

He smiles knowingly. It boils her insides.

“You’re the one who’s alone,” she looks down her nose at him; waiting for his regret which does not come. _Will it ever?_

He snorts a laugh, his grin growing wider without teeth.

“What are you so glad about, you’re in a cage.” She crosses her arms. “I hope that the tide comes up and swallows you whole.”

“You’re not supposed to be salvaging here,” he raises his brow, “are you?”

“What’s it to you?” she bends and picks another useful item from the shoreline. Recently she’s been abandoning the cordial and thinking more clearly.

“I’ll be sure to report your treacherous activity.”

“Treacherous?” Violet walks up, knowing that she’s been baited. “Oh, you know that word well, don’t you?”

_No shame. He never shows any shame._

“Yes,” Olaf taps his chin with a bony finger. “I recall that your parents did also.”

Violet grasps the rusted cage bars. “You know **nothing** about my parents.”

“Hm,” Olaf ponders, “are you so certain, Baudelaire?”

“Yes,” Violet hisses in response.

“So sure, when I’ve spent more years with them than you’ve been alive?”

The thought sends her blindly grasping for his shirt, for anything, any way to maim him as much as he’s maimed her psyche; challenged her feeling of safety as she closes her eyes at night. She breathes heavily as she grasps the tattered fabric, searching her mind which is spinning like a radio dial onto static channels.

His shiny eyes search hers, “So certain that we’re so different, you and I?”

His cold touch to her wrist on his lapels brings her mind back into focus. “You’re a wicked, **wicked** man.”

“That much is true,” he licks his dry lips. “Haven’t you ever wanted to be wicked, Violet?”

“Never,” she drops his shirt and straightens.

“Never wanted to, let’s say, harm someone?”

“No.”

“Not even little, old, me?”

They stare at one another in the setting sun. Their gaze interrupted by a wandering gull.

“It would be justified,” Violet’s voice is quiet to her own ears beneath the hum of the waves.

Olaf stares directly into her ocean eyes. “Do it.”

“Do what?” Violet squints.

“Exact your revenge,” Olaf folds his hands under his chin. “Make me suffer.”

Violet digs her feet into the warm sand. “How?”

“Let me out,” Olaf tilts his head, his eyes half-lidded.

“You’ll escape,” Violet jeers.

“Cross my heart,” Olaf motions. “I won’t.”

“You have no heart,” Violet grasps the cage bars once more.

“Perhaps,” Olaf’s eyes reach the sand. “But, an honorable girl would trust me. Wouldn’t she?”

“…I never said that I was honorable.”

Olaf’s grin returns with a certain pride to it. “Good. Good girl.”

“I’ll let you out.” Violet stands with her hands behind her back.

“You will?” His brow furrows in dubious curiosity.

“If you wear this,” she produces her scavenged item, a chain collar and leash.

He looks at it with vinegar in his mouth. It has been days since he’s had a proper drink. “Fine,” he croaks.

“I’m putting it on you while you’re in there,” she affirms, “so you won’t run away.”

“Go on, then,” he beckons to his throat.

She swallows as she approaches, still unaware of the power she wields. He nearly wants to bark to scare her, to let her know of what type of dog she’s dealing with- if she’s making him out to be a dog.

“Should I get on all fours, then?” He looks up to her after she clasps the cool collar around his heated throat.

“Don’t be crude.” As if she knows the meaning of the word.

Olaf and Violet stare at each other once more. “Great, now I have a collar around my neck_ and_ I’m stuck in a cage. Is this what you wanted, brat?”

“Give me a minute,” Violet sighs as she sinks to her knees, pulling a pin out of her hair to play with the lock.

How those skills would have been useful once upon a time. She doesn’t know how she should be thanking him. Doesn’t know how she should be smiling with tears in her eyes that her ankle remains as untouched as the sandy beach before them. They both catch their breath at the sound of the latch. His heart beats once again as he regains composure and runs from his enclosure.

Violet brings him down, yanking hard on his chain. He’s on his back and grasping at his throat as he coughs.

“You lied!” she shouts as she straddles him, kicking up sand as her knees catch his elbows.

He wheezes after a moment, “You were the one who said that I had no heart.”

“Well?” Violet’s brow furrows, “Where is it?”

Olaf coughs once more as he looks up at her, bewildered.

“What happened to it to make you such a miserable, old man?”

“What does it matter?” He struggles, interrupted by her hands on the chain and her knees on his arms. He could throw her if he wanted. Drag her along. 

“Were you good once?” Violet’s throat constricts, “…like me?”

Olaf’s quiet for a second, the sound of the waves echoing on the shoreline before he bursts into laughter. “Good?” he chokes, “_good_?” His laughter turns into cackles, turns into hacking until he’s gasping for air. Until he catches her reasoning. “No, orphan. No… It could never happen to you.”

“Promise?” There are tears in her eyes, as if his word has any meaning at all.

He nods. He swallows. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What now?”

“I don’t know,” Violet divulges. “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Olaf snickers a laugh.

Violet cracks a smile.

Olaf rolls back his head in laughter.

Violet lets out a meek sound.

Olaf would slap his knee if his arms were free.

Violet opens her mouth and laughs. Olaf finds himself speechless for the first time since he'd discovered the smell of rubble. This is something he’d never imagined he’d see. The sight leaves him perversely guilty. _Almost._ Violet Baudelaire: Happy.

“What?” Violet stops, suddenly aware as she glances over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Your smile,” Olaf grins. “I didn’t know you were capable.”

And as quick as he’s called attention to it, it’s gone. He wonders if it was ever there, a trick of his half-starved mind. But, like the sun slipping below the horizon, he can still feel its warmth.


End file.
